So, I've nearly been bursting at the seams to do this giveaway. I'm supa excited about it. With a mixture of blushing cheeks, feeling a bit silly, and genuine excitement, I wanted to announce that I was chosen by Pinng.com, an online invitations company, to host my artwork in the form of digital invitations. 

From their site:

Pingg is an invitation creation and event management site. We bring style, functionality and personality to events you plan on the web. With pingg, hosts can create stylish online invitations; choose how to send their invites— online (via email, social network or mobile text) or print (pingg will print, stamp and mail the invitations for you); customize their own event web page and manage all guest communications from one location. With its stylish designs, integrated print and online features, personalized event web page and easy to use tools, pingg will change the way you create and plan your event on the web.

Recently, Pinng.com partnered up with Martha Stewart herself, as they continue to grow on the web.

So, needless to say, I am excited, and feel very privileged. This is a great way to continue to grow and promote my work as an artist. Yay!

I have my own page, which features my bio, a silly picture, and my invites.

I know...I know. And now, I'm getting to the good part. To celebrate, I am giving away three of my prints from my Etsy shop.

The winner scores three 5 x 7 prints of their choice: a 45 dollar value-from my prints collection! For free! Feel free to check out my shop and browse around for whichever three you would choose from my illustration collection. These would look stellar in frames anywhere your decorating heart desires!

To enter, leave a comment before NEXT friday, (21st of November) at 12:00 p.m. The winner will be announced that afternoon. I will have an old fashioned drawing type of giveaway!

If you blog about this giveaway, leaving a link to this entry, you can come back for ten more entries. Just leave ten more comments.

SO, leave a comment, to enter. Blog about it with a link, and gain ten more. If you hate my prints, you can just win and then send them to someone else. ;)

Definitely ups the ante, eh?

I'm so excited-perhaps no one else cares, but humor me. Thanks and good luck!!!

Since we moved into our home two years ago, the experience has been a sheer critter terror a-la-swiss family robinson. I won't even check out how many entries I have written on snakes, rabbits, squirrels, spiders, ear wigs, mice, roaches, giant things that fly into our back door and flit spastically/moth/batlike around the room while I run about screaming after I measured it with my foot, deer, owls, dead birds, mice, mice, did I mention mice? I'm done. With all the construction around us, I am so SICK of having these animals in our home, I think I'm ready to write Lowder New Homes a choice letter. A very choice letter. They should pay for our pest control. I'm surprised I haven't found a coyote in my washing machine. 

The latest in this never ending stream of dramas is that our home has become an abode for Lady bugs. This may not sound like a biggie at first, but these things are evil. They swoop from the ceiling at our heads. They climb into our lights and die, so I have to clean them out later. And by abode, I mean the latest hot spot for these little guys, as in a club. A night club. A gentlemen' s night club, because all I'm seeing around here are the males. Perhaps with one female doing a pole dance on a sewing needle I left out, in the center. I hope she got some sweet tips. Correction. I just googled that, and received a mixed plethora of answers. Who has the spots? The internet world will never know. I thought maybe I had a gay club for lady bugs on the ceiling of my kitchen. Each day, I find a new swarm of them has collapsed in my window sill, leaving this cruel cruel world behind. Gross. 

Our pest control guy came earlier this week, and when I questioned him about our latest situation, he said that Auburn University had released them. At first I looked at him crookedly, and then decided he was an Alabama fan with some lame joke (hey, he looked like the type.) He avidly defended himself and his true allegiance  to a fabulous school, despite their dwindling football record. (Hey, that's what makes a true fan, anyway, right? Loving Auburn no matter what...digression....) and he said that Auburn University released the little guys into the air to save the pecan trees of the south. This year, the pecan trees are bearing fruit for their second year in a row. The pests that destroy the pecans are quite rampant this year. Ladybugs eat the pests. We have a giant pecan tree in our back yard. The things you learn from your pest control guy. Sigh. 

When he told me this, I got a little excited. It all made sense, this baffling puzzle I'd been dealing with the last few weeks. "I learn new things from you every time you come!" I said, excitedly.

He responded with an "Okkkkaaaaaaaayyyyyy," and then awkwardly scribbled on his notepad. You know, the kind of answer you get in Jr. High when you proclaim your undying affection to your PE square dance partner only to be smacked down with that simple phrase. Just like the lady bugs. I was killing my friends, and didn't even know. Fly lady bugs. Fly.

I've inhaled way too much stain whilst working on this buffet the last few days. 

In the meantime, I now hear the latest mouse caught in the wall of our den. I can't wait for the entire house to begin smelling like corroded garbage due to the rotting carcass of a disgusting rodent for a month when it finally dies! I'm about to go postal (sorry Roxy) with a jackhammer until I can find the little guy and sic Chloe on him. Oh the great satisfaction that would bring...Until the aftermath...

Hope you all have a pest free day!

{ Stay tuned on Friday, for my Funsucka give away numero dos.-there's been a bit of a delay, I know...but you will not be dissappointed-I hope??? Anyway, ya'll come back.}

Yeah. I find scenes like this around my house on a regular basis. Am I the only one?

 1. I haven't written more about this, but anyone who stays in touch with me on a regular basis has heard me gripe about it endlessly, I am sure. He completed his potty chart ages ago. But Aiden could care less about potty-ing. We have tried everything. The training underwear, the regular underwear, the pee on the cheerios, the stickers, the toys, the bribery...I even threw out Disney World one afternoon in a moment of sheer negligence, just because I knew he wouldn't do it. I took away his favorite toys. I threatened the child within an inch of his life out of the necessity for desperate measures. He has absolutely no interest on going on the potty. If I have to clean up one more nasty poop, I may go insane. Did you know we spend 200 bucks a month on pull ups and diapers and wet wipes???? 200. 

That's a nice pair of boots, people. Per month. Curses to the mothers I hear bragging endlessly about how "perfect" their little "potty angels" are. May you have a horrible nightmare of a time with your second one. And yes, I do (very bitterly) wish for that. It's not fair! (stomps foot) Do you know the fashion angst I have suffered all in the name of poo and pee???

I am all up in arms, here. And then, enter the "ribbets." Frogs are Aiden's favorite animal. He received these as a birthday party favor. (four of the sixty you see before your eyes) and It didn't take long for Jamin and I to realize he is crazy about them. Obsessive, even. Surprise surprise. He builds homes for them. He calls them Daddy, Aiden, Mommy and Baby ribbets. I wasn't sure where the pain-in-the-toucas-boogers came from, but I had my suspicions. After checking Oriental Trading, with a big fat bingo, we ordered a set of 45 for seven smackeroos. They arrived, a few short days later. INDIVIDUALLY WRAPPED. I wanted to strangle the idiot who came up with THAT idea. Hello, environment haters. Let's waste an entire roll of plastic on these insignificant plastic thingies. I even ripped off a few hands in the process of unwrapping them. Oh well.

Enter the ribbet system. Aiden pees=ribbet. Poops=ribbet. Goes in pants=ribbet taken away. OH THE ANGST of having a ribbet taken away! And then I laugh, realizing I could have had a round trip ticket to europe right now, with all the money we've blown on the diaper industry. He has also discovered the novelty of standing up and pee-peeing, so we shall see if this is, in fact, a winner for us all. It's been three months. Seriously. Let's do this, already.

2. It was time for a lamp/frame revamp. I mentioned these a few weeks ago, here. 

Before

Fourteen dollars, people! Walmart. They're beautiful. I got these lamps last year at Ikea, and always felt they were too small. I recovered them three times, and then officially gave up when I spotted these newbies. the Ikea versions were DYING to go in Emerson's room with their new French Boutique look. I think they go so much better! I call them my big girl lamps. My new frames are also in my etsy store, if anyone feels like blowing some money. Because you love me and we all have money right now. Lots of it. The economy rocks. Do it. 

After: major difference. 

Old lamps=Emmy's room. Sometimes I slap myself on the forehead and think...Why didn't I do this before??? and then I remember its because I have so many other things to think about...like feeding my children and going to the bathroom.

3. I ventured to my fave flea market today and found my birthday gift to me from Jamin. I do this every year. It's early (birthday=Diciembre 6th) But I found this old junky buffet which I cannot WAIT to paint. I also plan to rearrange the dining room. I haven't been feeling the love for quite some time now and will post on that soon. Something is seriously off with my fung sheui. Or however you spell it. I don't care enough to look it up.

While we're on the subject of flea market...I found this awesome frame for 8 dollars, as well. You can't beat eight bucks! I'm such a nerd. I'm turning it into a black board. Aiden was so good for me, he got some marbles out of the deal for two bucks. Never mind where the marbles have been, or who owned them before. They were two bucks, and every little boy should own some marbles. That, and I've always wanted him to lose them, and then traipse around the house yelling "I've lost my marbles!" Because that's just funny. 

the end. 

Last night in our Jr. High girl's class, we were playing a version of Who's Line is it Anyway, regarding dating. The topic was embarrassing things your father can say to a date.  This little jewel of a story came to mind, and I thought I would share with you. 

Humiliating moment no. 5554:

I was living in Auburn. I think it was in between my Sophomore and Junior year in college. I had been there for the summer, and I was getting ready to move to a new place my roommate's parents had recently purchased. In the meantime, however slightly ghetto is was, we had resided in an apartment complex that was once considered the "it" place to live amongst our friends. It didn't matter that mildew seeped through the walls, or that the threadbare navy blue carpet still existed, filthy since the early 80's. Or that my parents had questioned its safety every time the train rattled through right beside the back windows. Everyone knew everyone in the three story Complex. The place, was, admittedly, in its final days, but we were determined to live there anyway. We thought we were so cool. 

Jamin lived right above me, as well as a few other friends, on the top floor. I had begun dating him my sophomore year, and we were still together, after a brief stint of not-so-much, that merely lasted a few weeks. (We were over it quite quickly, though looking back, I realized I should have made him suffer longer. What???) 

In the process of packing and unpacking, my parents came down, and I remember they spent the weekend, helping me clear some things out, as well as bringing me a drafting table that I could work on, as my major was becoming quite demanding for work space. My roommates probably still hate me to this day, as I was constantly making some giant sculpture, painting in the kitchen, or cutting jibblets of paper on the counters for my next project. I was finally getting a room of my own, even if it was the size of a small walk in closet. Needless to say, I needed a little more space to work. I was back at the old apartment, I think getting ready to clean or something, and my parents were leaving, as they were living in Florida at the time and they had to get back. While they were there, my always well meaning father gave me a brief speech regarding purity and how I should remain so until marriage. AAAWWWWKKKWWWWWAAAARRRDDDD.

Yeah. Looking back now, no matter how humiliating it was, I realize it was probably good for me to hear such things coming from the male role model in my life. I really had no option but to suck it up and listen, anyway.

So, my parents were in their car, pulling out of the driveway. Since everyone lived in this complex, there were a crowd of our friends on the lawn, playing football. Most of them guys, and one of them Jamin. As they were backing out, my father rolled down the window, and with a wave of his arm to tell me goodbye, exclaimed: "Bye Honey! Stay a virgin!"

For all ears to hear. Including Jamin's.

I don't remember much after my well meaning father's final serenade. I swatted my arm and him and frowned severely, and then waved meekly while they turned their car to drive away, hoping no one had noticed. My mother punching him in the arm repeatedly as their tail lights faded in the distance.

I think after that, I melted into the sidewalk, as I would prefer never to be seen again. 

I have a true distain for bucket lists. Before you get angry, hear me out. The displayed for all the world to read, inexplicably unaccomplished, bucket lists. 

You know. Those lists all the "ambitious" and "trendy" people make before appearing on Oprah to declare this is what they did, and then receive a high five from the queen of depressing stories world wide. "I'm dying of a five hundred pound tumor which is currently inoperably adhered to my skull, but I climbed the highest summit of Mt. Tolawapee, ran with the bulls in the streets of Mexico, and skydived in Hawaii. I can no longer hold up my head, due to the weight of said tumor, or remember any of these events, but thanks for that high five Oprah. Thanks for confirming that I'm a great person. Yay for me. Oprah touched my hand. More points in Heaven. GOOOOO me."

Don't get me wrong. It's nice to have goals. I just tend to think sometimes they're a bit cheesy. I just find all this list making extremely dull. And sometimes I think people are so caught up in doing what they want to do before they die, that they miss out on the truly important things. Like the other people around them. Yes, I know you want to go to Italy. (So do I.) I know you want to run a Marathon. (Not sure that I do.) And yes, I know you want to enter that hot dog eating contest. And win. I read, and then yawn, moving on and realizing I will be completely surprised if said sharer of list EVER accomplishes any of those goals. Call me a pessimist, but there has just been WAY too much sharing going on. Stop talking, and DO people! They would be much more interesting if they were already accomplished. 

Instead of making all these unaccomplished lists to be displayed uninterestingly for all the world to see, perhaps we should go accomplish one of our goals and THEN share it. My blogging bud Roxy just did that. An incredible example for accomplishing goals, if I do say so, myself. {Insert high five for Roxy per Oprah, here.} My friend Patrick had a great, and quite comical, perspective on this. I realized that I agree whole heartedly. 

And then I stopped short mid rant of bucket lists, admitting to myself I do have my own list of sorts. I lovingly refer to it as my redneck list. (RNL) I have decided I was much too cultured as a child. (GAH, mom and dad. Way to care.) I never experienced the redneck fun as a child, which I, being from Alabama, am completely entitled to. 

So, since everyone else is doing it, without further ado, here is my (not so ambitious) RNL: these are things I have NEVER done, but am QUITE LIKELY to accomplish.  

1. Mudding. Yep. Never went. It always seemed so pointless to me, to get out in the dirt and roll around like a pig. Now, I am regretting my missed opportunity. As I am beginning to age, I realize how stupid I will look in my minivan, in the middle of a soddy field, blaring Celine Dion, turning doughnuts while my babies scream for mercy in the back seat. So I guess Jamin needs to take me. And not in his Accord. 

2. A Monster Truck Rally. I've actually attended one, recently, out of attempt to mark one more thing off of my RNL. It was in Montgomery, so you think with the country came to town stigma a lot of people have here, they would know how to do it right. WRONG. There wasn't even any DIRT on the floor, and three of the five sorry vehicles they call TRUCKS broke down. The most exciting part of the night was watching to see if any of the little kids on motorcycles (with idiot parents who allowed them to do so) during intermission were going to bust mid wheelie, and the drunken old man who kept waving his arms in the air in attempt to rally the crowd. I videotaped him with my digital camera, and he didn't even notice I was taking his pic. So, I am afraid, out of this experience, I was not able to cross it off of my list. I still want my money back. BOOOO.

3. Talladega. That's right. But only if I dress up like a complete REDNECK and then go to experience the fun. I'm talking fake tats, black bra with white wife beater...the whole nine yards. Maybe I'll even wear a pair of jeans that are way too small to give myself a horrid muffin top. With a thong poking out on top. Too far? Let's do this. Jamin has to grow out handle bards, because I'm making him go with me. 

4. WWF Wrestling. This one is truly one of my favorites. I have ALWAYS wanted to go, and scream in the crowd. Half of the fun is watching everyone around me, especially when there is alcohol involved. But oh, how I would love to scream for Goldberg, or whoever fights nowadays. Maybe if I'm lucky, I can body surf into the ring and be slammed by some roids chick. Hawtness. 

5. Freak Shows. I've always wanted to attend a freak show at the fair. You know, the ones with promises of a hugely obese bearded lady, or goat child. I love that stuff. My parents always tried to shelter me...or were they just saving their money? Either way, my childhood was not enriched with such experiences. I need to see this stuff, people! And make it good. The fakies don't count. 

6. Rodeo. Never been. And I want to see a good mauling in the process, while all the fellow rednecks scream, "That's my BABBBBYYYY!." While a body is hurled into the air. Awesomeness. 

So here we go. Jamin-this would be quite simple for you to plan for a date night. I always tried to tell you I'm not that hard to please.

*Claps hands to the side* Get to it!